The Woman
by Active Radios
Summary: Crack!AU drabbles. Warning, genderbend. Long before Irene Adler, there was a most remarkable individual who could have claimed the title of 'the woman'...
1. Slip of the Tongue

Stamford, mused Holmes in aggravation, was so very infuriating it defied belief.

Of course logically speaking it was not as though the man was actually privy to the largest of reasons any and all room mates were denied outright, despite the increasing need for Holmes to escape her current 'accommodation', should it deserve the label, but surely the blatantly obvious ones were staring the damned man in the face? Nobody could miss the lack of consideration for social niceties... or perhaps he was just that unobservant.

The constant unending drone was growing increasingly difficult to tune out- and all over a slip of the tongue when the infernal man whined about his own room mates!- and so with a frustrated sigh she turned to face him, sharply.

"If," she growled, "you so desire me to have company in Baker Street, then by all means, do please point me to somebody willing!"


	2. Challenge

If any man had needed further proof that Holmes was indeed a mad(wo)man, then the fact that she not only met with this Doctor Watson fellow, but did indeed _accept_ the offer proposed upon Baker Street should have provided plenty of food for thought upon the matter.

The facts stood thus, she mused while her new 'companion' was out: 'Sherlock Holmes', born Genevieve Holmes, disgrace to all that had known her in her past life she was sure, was currently residing under her aforementioned, assumed male persona with a thoroughly... _proper_ man of whom was utterly unaware of any implications this arrangement _really_ had.

A lesser person would most likely have run to the nearest exit upon realisation of the scale of the situation and attempted to vanish from London. Unlike most people, Holmes would have been most capable of such a feat, at that.

Instead she remained seated in the armchair, and considered just how bored she had been without a challenge, anyway.

_A/N: I'd just like to mention that my previous fic, Aversions to Fate, also contains two drabbles along this subject, should anyone wish for backstory! :)_


	3. Limits

"_Sherlock ...es — his limits_

_1. Knowledge of L... — Nil._

_2. " " P...osophy. — Nil._

_....tronomy. — Nil._

_4. " " Politics. — Feeble._

_5. " " Botany. — V...able._

_Well up in b.......m, and poisons generally._

_Knows no...g of practical gardening._

_6. Knowledge of Geology. — Pra...but limited. Tells at a g.......ent soils from each other. After walks ha...hown me splashes u...his trousers, and told me by their colour and consis......hat part of L...d them._

_7. Knowledge of Ch...istry. — Profound._

_8. " " Anatomy. — Accurate, but unsystematic_

_9. " " Sensati....terature. — Immense. He appears to know every det...f every horror perpetrated in the century._

_10. Plays the violin ..._

_11. Is an expert si...ick player, ... a...d swordsman._

_ a goo...tical knowledge of British...aw."_

It had taken Holmes some time to piece together the (admittedly still incomplete) list from fragments recovered from the grate on a particularly slow day, but the effort had been worth it, she was certain. The gaps were not difficult to fill in after she had done so.

As a list it was by no means accurate- indeed, she almost found herself laughing aloud at least once, though she stopped herself in time to protect her dignity- but nonetheless its level of perception surprised her. Doctor Watson had, it seemed, considerably more intelligence than she had given him credit for... something she admitted only grudgingly and privately, for overlooking things was hardly something to advertise in her business.

Yes, she would need to keep an eye on him, situations considered. Perhaps engineer some way to test him. Not out of any anxiety, of course. Simply... curiosity. Yes, indeed.

_A/N: As I realised I never mentioned! These drabbles shall all be chronological, with the exception of perhaps a few detours._


	4. State of Affairs

Lounging across the sofa in her dressing gown, accompanied by a pipe, she finally took a moment to breathe after the rather hectic day- to say the least. Her choice of dress was risky, she supposed- at least until the Doctor had become so accustomed to her appearance that he ceased to bother noticing anything out of the ordinary in her looks- but with the man tired out so from the days' 'expedition' she had decided the risk to be acceptable. After all, her mind spoke up idly, dragging oneself across London so with a war wound was hardly going to leave a person well-rested, especially not when the man had done it with such vigour, excited as he was to finally see 'his' profession.

This train of thought (and its unexpected content- that almost of concern) took her out of her previously calm state of mind. What had started as a 'test'- admittedly one that had gotten rather out of control- had ended up as something altogether different. And not, she thought with disdain, something she was altogether happy with. A developing sense of familiarity was to be expected after recent developments, she knew, but that did not change the fact that it was... more than unwelcome- _damaging_.

She was rather forcibly reminded of just why such a description was accurate (and really, such a lapse with a mind like hers was unforgivable- it must have been the late hour) upon feeling the pain in her chest from binding as she shifted at the thought. Despite any efforts she made to clamp down on it, an embarrassingly familiar well of bitterness welled up at it; even to a cold one such as her, such a reminder of her pitiable state- the very body some cruel God had decided she deserved- was unwelcome.

Lifting herself up in agitation, her eyes cast to the case she had purchased but some days ago, and indirectly, the bottle inside. Well. She had been meaning to experiment with doses and see how it would affect her, after all, and what better time than when she had nothing to occupy her? Perhaps it would supply stimulation. After all, that train of thought was one that never led anywhere interesting or useful. Not in the slightest. And tomorrow, well, she was sure her demeanour would be plenty to ascertain the goo- the Doctor was aware of just where friendship was applicable, and where it was not.

_A/N: ...OK, that was long. Oops. And not nearly cracky enough. ^^;_


	5. Impropriety

Holmes was not accustomed to paranoia. Such an irrationality had absolutely no place in her heart.

However, if she were pressed, she supposed that her feelings right now, courtesy of the Doctor's reaction, could possibly be linked to them. Vaguely, she assured herself. They were _comparable_. No more.

"Really, Holmes!"

"I honestly cannot see what you are making such a fuss of, Doctor."

Very well, perhaps her desire to reassert her masculine persona had overtaken her sense _slightly_ when she had utilised her rather... imposing method of waking him. But honestly, she could see no reason he could object to a man entering his room unannounced if he was _asleep_. Unless he had somehow noticed more about her gender than she had given him credit for, that is. Saying as such (minus certain elements, naturally), she merely received a deadpan look for her trouble.

"Holmes, that is not the issue here."

"Then what, pray tell, is?"

"Normal men do not do so by leaning not three inches away from other men's faces!"

"It worked, didn't it?" An understatement- the moment the man was aware he had leapt up with surprising speed for a wounded man at seven in the morning. She wished she'd thought to time it, actually.

The man simply sighed, and returned to his book, leaving Holmes to her ever so slightly nervous pacing once again as she considered any other reason for his annoyance. After all, they were hardly strangers, she thought distractedly. The only reason she could consider for being so angry at a friends entrance was surely impropriety that implied female compan-

..._Friend?_


	6. Siblings

A/N: Good god, it's been a while! Life took me over for a year, it seems. But muses do like to cling for dear life...

Visits to her brother generally involve good practice for her breaking and entering skills. It seems he has reached a point wherein he plays 'disapproving brother' well enough that he refuses to see her at the door, but is reconciled to her enough that he doesn't turn her away once she has made her way through.

She certainly doesn't mind- nor does it present any true challenge or difficulty for that matter, as quite frankly Mycroft's security is shocking.

It was ten past six in the morning, a fact that she knew not because of any clock but because she could hear him coming down the hall- his obsession with punctuality and rhythm was better than any timepiece. He barely reacted to her presence in his rooms beyond an irritated sigh at the pipe smoke that she had brought along with her to keep her company- apparently he had become resigned to the fact that she shan't stop popping by any time soon- and simply waved her greeting off.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Genevieve?" She pointedly did not respond to the name. "I can see you have no case with which you need assistance."

"It occurred to me that you might need the address of my new rooms."

"But you didn't simply send a telegram?"

"Why, one would almost think you weren't glad to see me, brother."

He didn't give any response, simply glancing down at her shoes. His brow wrinkled in uncharacteristic confusion after a moment.

"They are in... Baker Street? A much improved area over your last choice, but how did you come across the funds?" She merely took a long puff of the pipe in response, smiling around it. The moments ticked on, and she dragged it out, ever the dramatic, before responding.

She exhaled a cloud of smoke with relish.

"A most generous gentleman has been of aid in that area."

She deliberately used her unaltered voice, still deep-toned but nowhere near so much as before, and for a moment she fancied she might even pass for her own gender.

The amount she would owe Mycroft for the plate he dropped at her words is worth finally doing something that can shock him. Petty, but true.


End file.
